


The Love That Binds Us

by jelazakazone



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Era, Community: merlin_holidays, Holiday Fic Exchange, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/pseuds/jelazakazone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur sends Merlin and Gwaine to invite the druids to celebrate Yule in Camelot, but they discover the druids have a problem they expect Emrys to help with, one that could potentially expose his magic to the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Love That Binds Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alafaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/gifts).



> I had in mind that this took place some time after S4 had ended, but then diverges from canon, pretty substantially in some regards. A million bazillion thanks to N for all the beta work and cheerleading. Also, thanks to F, K, J, A, and C for cheerleading and talking to me about this story. You’ve all helped shape it and I really appreciate that.

As the sun crested over the castle, Merlin and Gwaine reached the forest outside Camelot. The air was crisp, all moisture sucked out by the cold temperature. The horses’ hooves crunched through the icy layer on top of the snow as they stepped across the field.  
  
Merlin took in a deep breath of cold air, savoring the sense of icicles spreading in his chest until his blood smoothed them away. He felt invigorated, alive. He was glad no one else had been available for this particular errand.  
  
The knights were all occupied with visiting dignitaries and helping ready the castle for the Yule festivities. Arthur had dithered with his decision over whether or not to invite the druids for the festive occasion; he’d finally decided, a few days before the event was to occur.  
  
“I have offered protection to the druids and have now repealed the ban on magic. I want you and Gwaine to go to the druid camp and invite them to take full part in our Yule celebration.”  
  
Merlin had felt his eyes grow wide with disbelief.  
  
“Just to clarify, sire, full part means they will reciprocate and share some of their customs as well?”  
  
“Of course, that’s the way we’ve always celebrated. Guests must share some of their customs. It connects us -- that is part of the point of Yule celebrations, after all.”  
  
Merlin had been dumbfounded. Sure, it had been his destiny to help Arthur unite the land and for peace to reign, but he had not expected it to come now. He had been about to open his mouth to ask if that meant all magic users were protected when Arthur spoke up.  
  
“Now, go. There is no time to waste. Hurry off. Shoo.”  
  
Arthur had looked back down at his papers. Merlin had been dismissed.  
  
Merlin wasn’t sure if he could take the credit for that decision or not, but in the end, he didn’t care. He was out of the bustle of the castle, he didn’t have to make any beds or serve any kings for three days, and he was going to have an adventure with Gwaine.  
  
He was sure it would be an adventure with Gwaine along, but he hoped it wouldn’t come close to the level of adventure they’d experienced when Arthur had gone after the Fisher King’s trident. Merlin shivered at that memory.  
  
“You all right?” Gwaine asked him.  
  
“Hunh? Oh, yes. I’m fine. I was just remembering that time I had to go collect you to help save Arthur from the Perilous Lands.” He smiled. “Remember that?”  
  
“Heh. I’ll never forget it. Pheasants, crying in the night, wyvern circling overhead. Ahhh, good times.”  
  
“Gwaine, let’s try to have a little less fun on this errand, shall we?”  
  
Gwaine chuckled and clucked his tongue, urging his horse into the wood. He didn’t wait to see if Merlin followed.  
  
Although the king had told them to hurry, Merlin and Gwaine didn’t share his sense of urgency. They ambled through the forest, letting the horses pick their own pace.  
  
Unlike with Arthur, Merlin did not have the same impulse to chatter. He was thus free to notice the squirrels frolicking in the trees, putting nuts away, racing around through leaves strewn over the forest floor. He heard birds chirping away as they passed, sounding the alarm to all their brothers and sisters. They traveled for some time in this fashion, just appreciating being away from the castle and out in the forest.  
  
Merlin smacked his lips and reached for his water skin. He wasn’t sure if the smacking drew Gwaine’s attention, or the ‘pop’ of the cork.  
  
“You feeling all right?”  
  
“Oh, I’m just a little hungry. Thought I might be able to stave it off if I drank some water.” He grinned, feeling a little sheepish.  
  
“Merlin, just say the word! No reason not to stop for lunch. We have plenty of time. The druids aren’t so far and presumably we won’t have to set up camp, so it doesn’t really matter when we get there, so long as we can see the trail.”  
  
“All right, if you insist.”  
  
They dismounted and reached into their saddlebags for little cloth bundles containing their noonday sustenance. The meal was simple and would not take long to eat, so the horses were left free to search for whatever they might be able to nibble.  
  
Gwaine perched on a particularly knobby root to munch on his sandwich.  
  
“You know,” he said through a mouthful of bread and meat, “I don’t think it’s necessary to always be running around, pell mell everywhere. It’s good to take time to stop and smell the flowers.”  
  
As if on cue, one of the horses k meandered by to leave an odiferous road apple and Merlin burst into laughter.  
  
Gwaine smiled and amended his statement, “well, but perhaps not the fertilizer.” He couldn’t help but laugh too.  
  
Spirits high and hunger sated, they mounted their horses and continued to the druid camp. It was a pleasant journey, and not taxing, so they were alert that something was awry upon arrival. It was close to supper time and they expected to see people bustling about, preparing food around a fire. What they saw was one person, tending a small fire.  
  
Merlin dismounted and whispered to Gwaine, “Something is not right.”  
  
Gwaine nodded, tight lipped.  
  
“Hallo,” Merlin called out to the person.  
  
She looked up, revealing her face as her hood fell back.  
  
“Forridel,” Merlin gasped. He was happy to see that she’d made it back to the druids after the raid on Camelot, but his pleasure at seeing her was fleeting.  
  
“What has happened?”  
  
“Emrys? What are you doing here? Did you get the message?”  
  
“Message? What message?” Merlin said at the same that Gwaine looked at him and said, “Emrys?”  
  
Merlin looked at Gwaine, his forehead crinkled. “Not now, Gwaine.”  
  
He returned his attention to Forridel and looked at her expectantly.  
  
Choking back tears, she said, “Mordred fell sick two days ago. We don’t know what’s wrong. We have examined him ourselves, but cannot locate the source of his illness. We have sent everyone out, looking for strong healers, but no one has returned.” She drooped. “Mordred is a light in our community. When I saw you, I thought you must have gotten the message and come to heal him.”  
  
Merlin knelt down and reached out to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His stomach churned at the mention of that name. _Mordred_ , the person who would bring Arthur down. He squashed down his own inner turmoil at her news.  
  
“Forridel, we came to extend an invitation from the king for the druids to come to Camelot and share in the Yule celebrations,” he said in a soft tone. “We must have passed your messenger.”  
  
Merlin stood up and offered her a hand. He still felt badly that the druids had been persecuted and felt he owed her, even now.  
  
“Come, let us see what we can do for Mordred. Gwaine, would you get my bag?” He looked expectantly at Forridel.  
  
The camp was set up with groupings of tents scattered around the periphery of a clearing surrounded by dense trees. Merlin thought it was excellent protection in and of itself from most passers-by, especially if the druids had spells up to keep noise muffled. Only those who were determined to get in would.  
  
Merlin was not surprised when Forridel led him to a solitary tent. Feelings rose in him again, thoughts tumbled through his mind. _Emrys. Mordred. Destiny._ He felt like snakes were twisting through his innards. He pushed those thoughts away, tired of wrestling with them, and hoped that he was doing the right thing.  
  
Gwaine caught up to them as Forridel lifted the tent flap. He handed the bag to Merlin without a word. They entered, stopping to let their eyes adjust. A man kneeling on the ground next to Mordred’s prone form looked up as they entered.  
  
“Emrys! You have come to help us. I knew I read the signs correctly. We have examined him, but would like you to look before we tell you of our observations. We have an idea, but prefer if you look at him with a clean mind.” Iseldir looked up at Merlin, hope in his eyes.  
  
Merlin shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say. What signs was Iseldir talking about? How was he going to help? He hadn’t even known Mordred would be here. He might not have been so happy to have undertaken this errand had he known. He was spared responding by Mordred’s moan.  
  
Merlin knelt down by the young man, observing him first. His skin was flushed, but not sweaty. Fingertips lightly placed on the neck ascertained that the pulse was fast and fluttering. He opened Mordred’s eyelids to discover bright blue eyes glancing around, seeking something in a dream, but otherwise healthy. Palpating the abdomen gave no answers. Merlin lifted his tunic and gasped. There was a bright red mark, as though someone had burned the skin only moments ago.  
  
Gasps came from Forridel and Iseldir as they leaned in. He looked at them.  
  
“So, this mark is new? Do you know now what ails him?”  
  
Iseldir looked at Forridel, then back to Merlin. He nodded, expression grave.  
  
“I think you know as well.”  
  
“Gwaine, please go get some water.”  
  
Gwaine left with alacrity; Merlin thought he seemed happy to have some purpose.  
  
In a low voice he said, “Sorcery.”  
  
Merlin went back to Mordred. He placed his hands on Mordred’s arm, but this time he gazed intently through his magic. He did not know how long he looked, but when he broke the flow of magic, his neck was stiff. He gasped for a second time.  
  
“This is a strong spell. Who would have wanted to harm him? He’s so young.”  
  
Gwaine stepped back through the flap and Merlin wondered if he should tell Gwaine that he had magic and just get it over with or whether he should send Gwaine out on another fool’s errand. The decision was made for him when Forridel answered the question.  
  
“Emrys, can you not tell from the shape of the spell left on Mordred? Surely the spellcaster’s signature is on it.”  
  
Merlin noticed Gwaine’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t say anything to Merlin and Merlin chose to stay quiet as well.  
  
Pressing down on aching knees, Merlin stood.  
  
“Aye, it has the feel of Gilli.” Merlin shook his quickly. “But, that makes no sense. Why would he want to harm Mordred, a druid?”  
  
Iseldir gave Merlin a sad look. “Yes, we also believe it was Gilli who did this. Gilli came to us a few years ago, asking for training. As you might know, we have wards around the camp which make it hard for casual passers-by to find. When he told us of his encounter with you, we took him in. He lived peacefully with us and his training was going well, until a few months ago.”  
  
Merlin looked at him, waiting for him to continue, wondering what could have happened.  
  
Iseldir drew in a breath. “Then, a visitor appeared in camp, just someone traveling through for a night. It does happen, from time to time, that a person will find us without having tried.”  
  
Merlin nodded and then Iseldir continued. “This traveler spouted some nonsense about Mordred interfering with your destiny, Emrys. That’s when Gilli’s behavior changed. Gilli, who had always been the picture of civility and kindness in the camp, became withdrawn and combative towards Mordred. We were completely surprised by his actions. We asked him to cease, we are a peaceful people, but he did not. Ultimately, he forced us to turn him out.”  
  
Merlin struggled with emotions tangling his tongue. He was unsure what to say first. Finally, he blurted out, “When did you cast him out?”  
  
“A week ago.” Iseldir closed his eyes, then continued. “Mordred took sick two days after Gilli left. At first, he was just tired, but by yesterday, we could not rouse him. And now there is the brand on his flesh.” He waved his hand weakly. “We are skilled in the healing arts, but none of our tools seem to be working.” He took Merlin’s hands in his own. “Emrys, we are counting on you.”  
  
Iseldir stepped back and waited, expectantly. Merlin closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Destiny weighed on him.  
  
Kilgharrah’s voice rang in his ears, “Let the druid boy die.” Merlin’s heart sang another song, “All life is precious.”  
  
He felt the vibrations of life all around him; in the leaves, even as they dried up on the trees, in the trees, with their flowing sap, in the birds and the notes they trilled. Another inhalation enlivened his senses, tipping his decision over to the side of life.  
  
Iseldir stood in front of him.  
  
He nodded.  
  
“All right. I will see what I can do.”  
  
****  
  
A few hours later, Merlin pushed the flap back and emerged from the tent. His hair was flattened in spots and sticking out like porcupine quills in others. The laces in his shirt were uneven, the tips of which were sodden and frayed. He rubbed his stomach which was groaning and cramped with hunger. He caught the scent of roasted meat and followed his nose to that small fire where Gwaine and Forridel sat tending a pot.  
  
“Ah, Merlin, how are things proceeding? Have you broken the enchantment then?”  
  
Merlin scrubbed at his face, pulling at his cheeks and chin before removing his hands. He shook his head.  
  
“I have tried all the obvious solutions and then taken those things and tried them sideways and backwards. Nothing is working. I thought I should take a break before I over reached and burned myself out.”  
  
Gwaine looked confused, but Forridel understood. She grabbed a bowl, from whence Merlin could not tell, and ladled stew into it. The aroma immediately started his mouth watering and he had to control himself lest he choke from eating too quickly.  
  
Even so, the bowl was emptied before Merlin would have liked. He must have looked a bit morose because Forridel asked him, “Would you like more? We have plenty. I made the stew knowing that the others would come back this night now that you are here.”  
  
Merlin sank onto the log next to Gwaine, reaching across the knight to hand her the bowl. “I would be grateful for another serving. I intend to go back to him soon.”  
  
He closed his eyes for just a moment, his eyelids had grown so heavy, and then he jerked awake at a light touch on his arm. Drool was pooling at the corner of his mouth and he wiped it away on his sleeve.  
  
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He gave Gwaine a sheepish look, who looked back at him fondly.  
  
“It’s all right. You clearly needed some sleep. Besides, you weren’t asleep for long. Here, have some more stew, then you can go back to Mordred.”  
  
Merlin nodded as he scooped the food into his mouth, chewing only as much as necessary. As he stood, he heard hoofbeats. He raised an eyebrow at Forridel.  
  
“That’ll be the first of the scouts returning. Go, tend Mordred. He needs you. You can meet the rest of the camp later.”  
  
Gwaine patted Merlin on the back, encouraging him, giving him that last bit of resolve he needed to stand up and get back to work.  
  
****  
Alone in the tent with Mordred, Merlin prepared himself for the long night ahead. He knelt beside the young man, settled himself on a folded rug, and closed his eyes. He noticed first the sounds of druids returning home. Happy noises of reunion and offers of food or other comforts. He moved on, casting his attention deeper, into the earth, where he could sense the vitality of the roots underneath him.  
  
This network of life energized him, almost giving him a shock, and he cast further downstream, letting the current move him where it would. He was not afraid of getting lost in it; his power would keep him afloat.  
  
Merlin kept his senses open, trying to recognize anomalies. _Ah, there. There was a place the current pooled and eddied._ He went to take a closer look.  
  
 _Damn it. Why had he not thought to do this sooner? Here was the answer._ Gilli’s thumbprint was clearly in this and he could sense Mordred’s soul being tugged in. _Now, where was Gilli?_ It would be much easier to find Gilli and make him stop than to try to bludgeon through the spell, not mention safer as well.  
  
Merlin slowly swam upstream, taking his time. Retracing his steps brought him back through those roots where energy pulsated slowly due to the cold weather, but no less brightly for it. Up up, he rose, listening for sounds above the earth now. Twitters from a few birds reached his ears; the camp was quiet.  
  
He inhaled one last time and opened his eyes. The light was dim. He gasped, realizing he had indeed spent the whole night searching. The flap opened and Gwaine entered, just in time to catch Merlin as he fell.  
  
When Merlin came to, he was by the fire, again. Gwaine was cradling him and holding a bowl of stew to his nose. Merlin smiled, knowing Gwaine had grasped at straws in trying to care for him. Merlin realized he was famished. He must have used an enormous amount of energy searching through the night. After a few spoonfuls, Merlin took the spoon from Gwaine.  
  
“Thank you, Gwaine.”  
  
Merlin felt his chest constrict. He was grateful for Gwaine’s care and knew he owed Gwaine an explanation. As he chewed, he deliberated. He did not like the conversation he was having with himself. Although the ban on magic had been repealed, Merlin did not know if all magic users were really protected and then there was the fact that he had lied to Arthur all these years.  
  
The urgency of Mordred’s plight weighed on him, tugging for his attention. He felt as though he were caught in that eddy pool, being pushed this way and that. Drawing on a thin filament of magic, he resolved to tell Gwaine soon. Merlin stood.  
  
“Gwaine, I see that you kept vigil all night. Can you ride with me now? It will not be far.”  
  
“Of course, Merlin.” The warmth in Gwaine’s eyes was nourishing to his soul the way the meal had been for his body.  
  
“Let’s get the horses and go. Now.”  
  
****  
  
Although Mordred was caught in an enchantment, they still had time. They did not need to ride the horses hard, so there was time for conversation. Away from the druids, Gwaine started to ask questions.  
  
“What’s going on, Merlin?”  
  
Merlin knew that Gwaine was trying to sound friendly and open. Had it been Arthur he definitely would have felt threatened. Little coils of emotion twisted in his gut and chest.  
  
“Gwaine, you owe allegiance to Arthur and to Camelot, right?”  
  
“Of course. You know that.”  
  
“What about me?”  
  
“You? You are my friend.” Gwaine looked at him, concern in his eyes now.  
  
Merlin looked down, away from him. He sighed. He could not put it off any longer; it would not heal his pained heart to wait any longer. Gwaine had been patient, but Merlin could also tell that he needed to know. Everything. He looked directly at Gwaine.  
  
Merlin choked out, “Clearly you see that I have magic.” He held up a hand to forestall anything Gwaine might have said and took a deep breath. “You are not stupid. Gwaine, I have magic. In fact, I am more powerful than any sorcerer I’ve met.”  
  
Gwaine laughed at first, but at the pained look in Merlin’s eyes, he stopped.  
  
“Yet, Arthur does not know.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Gwaine waited.  
  
“When I first came to Camelot, and then for many years, magic was outlawed. Yet it is my destiny to protect Arthur. How could I ever tell him I had magic and still protect him? If I had told him, I would have been burnt at the stake or banished. Either outcome takes me away from Arthur’s side. Telling Arthur the truth about my magic was never acceptable. Until now.”  
  
Gwaine nodded.  
  
“But,” he started slowly, “now you’ve kept the magic a secret so long, it’s no longer the magic that’s a problem, but rather the secret. How will he ever trust you knowing that you lied to him all these years.”  
  
Gwaine’s serious look turned into a grin before reversing. “Oh, you are in a fine pickle now, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin nodded and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Tears sprang into his eyes. He felt more relaxed than he had since Lancelot had died. No secrets between him and Gwaine, but it did not erase the shadow of the secret between himself and Arthur.  
  
“I know,” he continued glumly, “but there is no more time to talk. We are almost there. We must dismount here and go the rest of the way on foot as quietly as possible. I do not think we will need to exercise the utmost stealth, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”  
  
They left the horses untethered, knowing that if the horses strayed too far, Merlin could call them back. He’d always had a knack with the horses.  
  
Merlin in the lead, they walked purposefully through the woods, making no more noise than the squirrels or birds. Shortly, they came upon a hunched figure, covered in a brown cloak. They could make out tufts of hair sticking out and they heard him muttering softly. He seemed unaware of his surroundings.  
  
Merlin held up his hand, signaling Gwaine to fall back. He spread his awareness, confirming that the spell was indeed originating here. And then he realized what he needed to do to break the spell.  
  
“Gwaine,” he whispered, not terribly concerned about attracting the man’s attention, “I think Gilli will collapse when I break the spell. I want you to catch him.”  
  
Gwaine nodded.  
  
Merlin went into himself again, down through his feet and into the roots, following them to Gilli’s line of power. He could see the spell, tangled with the natural magic that flowed in the ground. He pondered for a moment before deciding how to proceed.  
  
Confident that his course was correct, he started separating the spell-strands from the wild magic. Once he got going, it didn’t take long for Gilli’s spell to completely unravel. Merlin watched to make sure it had dissipated before he returned his consciousness to his body. Now that the spell was gone, Gilli would have to do one more thing for the healing to be complete.  
  
Vibrating with energy, he opened his eyes to find a bewildered Gilli in Gwaine’s arms. Gwaine looked to him for guidance.  
  
“Gilli,” Merlin said as he took a step to kneel down next to him. “What happened?”  
  
Tears sprang to Gilli’s eyes. “Why did you stop me, Merlin? They were going to kill you.” He looked about wildly, as if the danger were imminent. Sniffling, he continued, “I couldn’t let them do that.”  
  
Merlin gently placed his hand on Gilli’s shoulder. “Gilli, I don’t believe there ever was any danger to me, especially not from Mordred. I appreciate your concern, but this is not the right way to solve a problem. Why didn’t you come to me when you found out?”  
  
“I couldn’t go back to Camelot. Magic is outlawed and I would have been hung.” He choked back a sob. “Don’t you see, it was the only way!”  
  
“Come. Let us go back to camp. We must check on Mordred.”  
  
Gilly shook his head wildly at this pronouncement.  
  
“No. No! They will not take me back. I can’t go back there, not after what I’ve just done.” Tears ran down his face.  
  
“Gilli, I promise they will not harm you. Come, we need to get back to camp now. You can ride on the back of my horse.”  
  
Merlin could see his words taking hold. Gilli pulled his cloak around himself and stood. He looked like a condemned man in front of the firing squad, but Merlin did not have time to care. He just needed to get Gilli back to camp to complete Mordred’s healing.  
  
****  
  
Gilli’s sobs shook Merlin. Merlin gave him a few minutes, hoping that he would cry himself out. When he didn’t, Merlin was moved to speak.  
  
“Gilli, we can fix this. You’ll see. It will be fine. The druids are peaceful people. They are not like Uther.”  
  
Merlin could feel Gilli’s head shaking back and forth. He waited. Haltingly, Gilli started speaking.  
  
“Merlin, living with the druids has been like living in a dream. Not only am I free to practice magic, it is honored. Powerful sorcerers are valued here. They are even granted high status.” Gilli’s arms around Merlin loosened for a moment. “Of course, one has to be trained properly to achieve high status, but Merlin, I don’t have to hide who I am any more. I am not afraid of magic or being discovered. People need my skills and I’m just a nothing, compared to you.” He resumed crying, more quietly this time.  
  
Gilli’s words pierced through Merlin’s heart; he thought he felt it stutter, before it resumed thumping in his chest. _Status, free, valued._ The words rolled around in his head, churning his emotions once more. He wasn’t a knight, yet he was one of Arthur’s men. At times he felt cast aside in his role of servant. He had yearned for years to tell Arthur about his magic and now he wasn’t sure of the repercussions -- but there wasn’t time to deal with that now. He shoved the thoughts away.  
  
When they arrived back at camp, people were bustling about, cleaning up after having eaten breakfast and going about their daily lives. Forridel and Iseldir saw them coming and greeted them as they approached. Their faces still showed some worry, as Merlin had expected, but they looked pleased to see Gilli sitting behind Merlin.  
  
Merlin dismounted, asking, “How’s Mordred now?”  
  
“He is still flushed and unconscious, but he seems to be merely sleeping, rather than in the thrall of an enchantment,” Iseldir informed him.  
  
Merlin nodded, not breaking his stride to Mordred’s tent. At the entrance he said, “Wait here. I’ll just be a moment.” He ducked through the flap into the dim cozy interior.  
  
Indeed, Mordred looked like any sleepy teenager, but for the flush across his cheeks. His breathing was deep and slow, his eyes no longer darted around chasing phantoms through his dreams. Merlin exhaled, relieved.  
  
He sat next to the young man, once again, and placed his hands on Mordred’s chest. Eyes closed, he tapped into the magical current, growing giddy with the contact this time. He scanned Mordred’s body with a magical lens and found the disturbance, a small spot, easily righted now that Gilli was no longer feeding it.  
  
When Merlin opened his eyes, he saw bright blue eyes looking steadily back at him. Warmth suffused him at the admiration and gratitude he saw.  
  
“Emrys. You came,” Mordred said weakly. “I knew you would.”  
  
Mordred’s words stirred old feelings of guilt in Merlin, but he had come this time, even if he hadn’t known Mordred had called him. And damn it, he had nothing to feel guilty about. He’d save Mordred in Camelot as well. That other time, well, he’d only been trying to protect Arthur.  
  
“Rest. You are fine now.”  
  
Merlin ducked out of the tent, exhausted from the night’s activities. He stumbled, but Gwaine was right there to lend support. They walked back to the campfire. Merlin barely noticed Gwaine asking for food or what he was eating, so focused on his thoughts and no energy to spare.  
  
Gilli’s words were back, rolling around in his thoughts. Magic was normal here. Merlin could see little flares as people went about their lives using small spells to aid in their tasks. He yearned for a life like this -- where all people were free to be who they were -- but he knew his place was in Camelot at Arthur’s side, where he always was. He put his bowl on the ground and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
“Hey there.”  
  
Gwaine’s words were accompanied by a thud on his back. He looked over at Gwaine.  
  
“I can see that you would be well regarded here, and people would obviously appreciate you, definitely a hell of a lot more than that king of ours, but in Camelot, you are special, even if no one tells you that. You’d just be another magic user here. Not _nobody_ , but not special.”  
  
Gwaine took his hand off Merlin’s back.  
  
“Look, the king -- Arthur,” he amended, “needs you. I can see it. All the knights see it. Gwen sees it. We don’t necessarily understand why he needs you, but he clearly does. He’s also rubbish at showing his appreciation, but I believe that he needs you. More than you need to be here.”  
  
Merlin felt the truth in Gwaine’s words. Arthur did need him. Their destinies depended on one another. He nodded.  
  
“You are right, but if we stay here much longer, I don’t know that I’ll remain convinced of it. Let’s return to Camelot now.”  
  
Gwaine laughed. “Merlin, you must rest. Please, go sleep for a while. I won’t let you stay even if it means I have to pick you up and tie you to your horse.”  
  
Merlin narrowed his eyes at Gwaine, but he was not intimidated.  
  
“Please, you wouldn’t hurt me with magic and you can’t even kill a fly. I’m not worried; neither should you be.”  
  
Merlin smiled now and let himself be pulled to standing.  
  
****  
  
As they tightened the girths on their saddles, Merlin asked, “Are you sure you’ll come? I could understand your reservations, but Arthur is a good and just king. If he’s made a promise, he will keep it.”  
  
Iseldir smiled at Merlin. “We are honored to be the king’s guests at your holiday celebration, but we need some time to gather our things together. We will follow you tomorrow or the next day. We have plenty of time to get there in time for the feast and we want to make sure Mordred is well enough to come along. We are grateful to you, for saving him and bringing Gilli back to us.”  
  
Merlin tipped his head forward, steeling himself. “I have a boon to ask, in that case. The king still does not know that I have magic.”  
  
Iseldir’s eyes widened in astonishment and he pursed his lips, but he kept silent.  
  
“I would ask that you let me tell Arthur in my time, when I’m ready.”  
  
“As you wish, Emrys, although I would counsel that waiting will not make it any easier.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “I’m well aware of that. Every day, the secret gnaws on me, making a hole in my heart bigger and bigger.”  
  
Iseldir nodded sympathetically.  
  
“I would like to get going now, but we look forward to seeing you in a few days then.”  
  
“Indeed, we look forward to the celebration in Camelot as well,” Iseldir replied.  
  
Merlin and Gwaine mounted their horses, looking forward to the short, easy trip home.  
  
****  
  
The ride home had indeed be short and easy, to both men’s relief. Although Gwaine had suggested camping one night for more relaxation, Merlin had resisted. He felt Camelot tugging on him. The next few days passed in a blur until the feast was upon them.  
  
The castle was abuzz with energy and excitement. Crisp air made noses and cheeks pink, but livened spirits. Carousing voices echoed off the stone walls, full of cheer. Everyone was focused on Yule festivities and servants bustled about the corridors, arms laden with everything from linens to platters and baskets of preserved foods. Merlin even saw a few knights wrestling a hog into a kitchen and his mouth watered knowing that Arthur would save some of the precious cheek meat for him.  
  
A sentry arrived in the council chambers, out of breath, announcing the druids’ arrival, mere hours before the feast.  
  
Arthur beamed. “Excellent news. Well done. Let’s go down to courtyard to greet them. Gwaine, please tell Gwen to meet me in the courtyard. Merlin, my cloak.” He held out his arm, waiting. Merlin carefully draped the cloak around Arthur’s shoulder, making sure it hung correctly before he tenderly reached around and clasped it shut.  
  
They reached the courtyard at the same time as Gwen. Arthur stood on the steps, Gwen by his side, and waited for the clamour to die down.  
  
“Welcome to Camelot. I know that under my father’s rule, you were a persecuted people. As some of you know, I promised to protect you.” He gazed at Gwen for a moment, gathering himself before continuing, “I have also lifted the ban on magic.” He stopped, as a loud cheer arose before him. Merlin’s heart filled with pride; if he’d had any lingering doubts before, he was certain now he still belonged in Camelot at Arthur’s side.  
  
Arthur continued, “Know that you are honored guests here for our celebration. Merlin is at your disposal should you need anything, as are the knights of the realm.” He held out his hands to Iseldir in welcome. “Merlin, go help them with their horses,” he added as an aside.  
  
Mordred and a few other druids walked with Merlin to the stables. Mordred caught up to Merlin, falling in step with him. Merlin stayed quiet, wondering what Mordred wanted. All through taking the tack off, Mordred was silent, but Merlin noticed him biting as his bottom lip, as though he wanted to say something. They groomed and watered the horses; Merlin waited.  
  
Mordred hung back, waiting, as the other druids departed. Curiosity kept Merlin behind for a moment, but just as he was about to leave, Mordred put a hand on Merlin’s arm.  
  
“Emrys, thank you, for saving my life,” Mordred said softly, lowering his eyes and biting his lip. “I know about the prophecies and I understand why Gilli did what he did.” He raised his startling blue eyes to look directly at Merlin. “I only hope that I can live up to your efforts.”  
  
Merlin sighed. “Mordred, I know that you are powerful, but we cannot truly know the future. I have to trust that all life is precious. I know some of the prophecies, but I must live by what my heart tells me. I believe that love is the key.”  
  
Tears shone in Mordred’s eyes as he nodded agreement.  
  
“Come, the feast is about to begin. I am sure you want to be with your people to get ready.” He took Mordred’s arm in his on impulse and they walked together to the castle.  
  
That night, Merlin leaned against the wall, watching the celebrations after dinner. First came jugglers and musicians from a few of the visiting dignitaries, then Arthur’s court presented a Mummer’s play which had everyone in stitches. Finally, it was time for the druids to share their customs.  
  
They came in through the door, single file, with the youngest leading. Each person held an unlit candle. As they came in, they circled inside the space, forming a spiral. The assembled company held their breath, quiet as an owl in flight.  
  
Simultaneously, the wicks lit up, lighting each holder with a gentle glow to the pleased astonishment of the crowd.  
  
A voice rang out, high and clear, in joyous song. They started walking around one another and then another voice joined and another until the entire group was singing and moving. Birds and butterflies flitted above the performers. Harmonies danced around the melody, holding everyone in the room still with the beauty. As the song ended, there was a collective sigh.  
  
Merlin felt a slight tug on his heart, seeing them again and the ease with which they wove magic in their lives, but then he was reminded of his conversation with Gwaine again. He looked at Arthur, eyes crinkling with pleasure and widening with astonishment at the druid’s performance. His words to Mordred tumbled in his mind, _love prevails_ , and he resolved to tell Arthur as soon as the druids left.  
  
The druids had gathered in a circle again and this time they had little bells, or possibly chimes, Merlin wasn’t sure, that were tinkling as they spun into a spiral and back out. It was like watching shooting stars on a cloudless night, Merlin thought. And then they left the room. Everyone sighed at their absence, but when they reappeared, the group burst into warm applause.  
  
Merlin’s heart swelled -- his dream of a united Albion was that much closer.  
  
****  
  
In the dim dawn light, snowflakes tumbled and whirled in the cold air. Arthur had asked Merlin to help with the horses, so he found himself in the stables warmed by the horses. He took in a deep breath of straw and animal, comforting from its familiarity. Mordred was with him, again, but much less nervous than the previous day.  
  
Just outside, Mordred put his hand on Merlin’s arm. He looked into Merlin’s eyes and stood on tiptoes to place a soft kiss on Merlin’s lips.  
  
“Thank you for seeing that the love that binds us is more important than the power we wield.”


End file.
